Black Heart
by Saiyaness28
Summary: Rosette Parker, a young writer, came to Hollow Hill for inspiration and instead, has found herself deep underground held captive by a strange creature, intent on making her his fourth bride, having killed his previous three. Modern Fic.
1. Chapter 1

Black Heart

(Disclaimer: Hollow Kingdom is the property of Clare B. Dunkle. I own nothing.)

Chapter One

Pulling into the gravel parking lot of the Hollow Hill Inn, the driver quickly found a space for her old Volkswagen Beetle and got out of the small car. She entered the quaint establishment with her heavy duffle bag slung over her shoulder, and a notebook clutched tightly against her chest.

As she opened the door, a little bell above the door chimed, announcing her presence. The old lady behind the desk looked up from her magazine at the sound to greet the newcomer with a pleasant smile.

"Good Evening." The old lady said in greeting. She hopped her round body off of her stool and waddled over to the cash register and old log book.

_Strange. _Thought the stranger to herself. _Now a days everything is computerized_. Her full lips stretched into a pleased smile. She had a fondness for old things and traditions. She didn't care too much for computers. Nor did they care for her. She never could figure out how to work the damn things. That's why she wrote all her stories by hand in her precious notebook.

"Good Evening." She replied, as she approached the desk.

"Checking in, Dear?" The lady asked in a thickly English accented voice.

"Yes, Ma'am." The stranger answered quickly. "I plan to stay for two weeks, if that's alright." The stranger took off her sunglasses to reveal pretty copper colored eyes.

"Certainly." The woman chimed. "Name please?"

"Rosette Parker."

"Rosette. Such a pretty name." She commented as she scribbled in her log book.

"Thank you." Rosette replied, looking about the inn's front room. It was decorated like an old person's home, littered with antiques from decades long passed. Rosette liked it a great deal.

"Traveling alone, are we?" The lady asked, her voice holding a strange, foreboding tone.

"Yes, Ma'am." Rosette answered, one dark eye brow arching with curiosity as the lady's lips fell into a deep frown.

"Now I need to know your age and see your driver's license." The lady ordered, her silver blue eyes glaring at her with a look of concern.

"I'm twenty-one. Why do you ask?" She asked as she rummaged through her purse and handed the lady her license. Her nosey tendency was starting to rear it's ugly head again.

"Oh it's just a policy we have here. No one under the age of nineteen can stay at the Hollow Hill Inn." She said, matter-of-factly. Her expression seemed much more relaxed now.

Rosette's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "No children? That's a strange policy. I've never heard of such a thing before."

"Yes well, Hollow Hill has a pretty tragic history. For as long as anyone around here can remember, young girls have periodically vanished from Hollow Hill. They were all around the same age, from fifteen to nineteen years old. Several of the girls that disappeared lived in the manor that once stood here in place of the inn. Recently there's been a number of disappearances, so to be on the safe side, the owner doesn't allow children at the inn. He doesn't want to be sued by angry parents." The inn keeper explained, with a slight roll of the eyes at the end.

"I see." Rosette breathed with a thoughtful nod. "How many disappearances have there been?"

"No one knows for sure, but over the past seven years or so there's been at least three. The police have scoured the woods and land all over the hill, but they never could find anything."

"No bodies?" Rosette prodded.

"No. It's as if, they were all just spirited away. The locals are certain that it's the work of goblins."

"Goblins?"

"Yes, It's a local legend of sorts. They say that goblins live in the hill itself. That it's hollow. That's why they call it Hollow Hill."

"Interesting. Tell me, would the library have any information on Goblins or the disappearances?" Asked Rosette, fully intrigued. Her writing hand was twitching now with anticipation.

"I believe so. I'm sure the news archives will have plenty of articles on the missing girls." The lady said, studying Rosette carefully. She had an odd feeling about this one. This woman. Shoulder length black hair framed a heart shaped face with high cheek bones and full rosy lips. Her copper colored eyes shone brightly in the light filled room. She was tall and lean. Strongly built. She looked like a girl who could take care of herself, but, then again…so had the other three. "Please take care." She said, as she handed the woman her room key.

"Thank you." Rosette bid with a smile. She took the key from the old woman and walked briskly down the hall, towards her room, room 112.

After arriving at her room, she threw her duffle bag to the side and layed her notebook and purse on the little desk that was in the room. She laid down on the creaky bed with a sigh. What luck. She had come to Hollow Hill seeking inspiration for a fairy story, and inspiration had indeed found her. She couldn't wait to start her research, but first…a nap.

Little did she know, the story she had stumbled upon was far from a fairy tale. For Goblins did indeed lurk beneath her feet. And the king of the Goblins had once again found himself in need of a fresh new bride.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The tall Goblin king stared blankly at the cold, pale face of his third wife, as a burly Goblin with tusks shoved the stone lid of the tomb closed.

"Marak, what are we going to do now?" Asked his lieutenant, Goar.

Marak didn't bother looking at the bull horned goblin. He continued to stare at the three stone tombs before him. "It's none of your concern. I'll do what I've always done. I'll start again. I'll find a new wife. Plain and simple." He said harshly, his deep voice rumbling with a cat-like purr.

He turned away, briskly. His black coat whipped about violently with his movement. If he thought he could simply walk away from Goar's nagging, he was sadly mistaken. The man followed a few steps behind him, nearly running to keep up with Marak's quick stalk. "I know that you can find another bride. The question is, can you keep her? For heaven's sake, Black Heart, you're already thirty years old!"

"What have I told you about calling me by that name?" Marak hissed, his yellow-green eyes shifting to glare dangerously at him.

"Forgive me, Cat's Fang." Goar sometimes called him by the nickname the people had given him. He had been born as Marak Cat's Fang, but after he killed his first wife, the people had taken to calling him Marak Black Heart, for he was the most brutal and dangerous king they had ever had. Although they could, no Marak had killed their wives before him. Not only had he done it once, but he'd done it three times now. Just because the girls rejected him, something all the Kings' Wives did in the beginning. Everyone feared him. " Just…hear me out. I speak for the people. We're all concerned. We don't have time to waist. You can't afford to start over a fifth time. You must allow yourself time to produce an heir." He pleaded.

"Tell that to those stupid women." Cat's Fang growled, showing his namesake, long, sharp fangs jutting from his teeth filled mouth, a snarl contorting his cat-like face. "If they'd stop their screaming and wailing, I wouldn't have to keep starting over."

"Please, Marak, I beg you, for all our sakes, be patient with the next one. If you die without an heir, the goblin race will disappear. Without our king, we cannot exist."

Marak's thin lips closed shut and his pupils went from slits to large circles. "I will…try, Goar, but I cannot promise you anything. Our survival rests with my next wife. If she proves to be stronger than the others, we will have our queen, if not…she'll die like the rest." Having made his intentions known, Cat's Fang pulled his hood over his head and turned away.

"Where are you going?" Goar called after him.

"I'm going to find her." He roared back, as he slunk down the corridor of polished black stone. With his all black attire, he blended seamlessly with the shadows.

Goar watched him leave. A deep sigh escaped his barrel chest. Would Marak ever settle down? Would he always have this violent nature? If only he were kinder…

Rosette scoured through the old, dusty bookshelves of the town library. It wasn't very well stocked, most of the books on Goblins she could find were for children. She did, however, find some very interesting information on the disappearances in the archives, just as the inn keeper had said.

The first girl, disappeared seven years ago. Her name was Lorelei Jones. There was a picture included in the article. She was just fifteen years old. Red coils gathered wildly around her angular face. Freckles dusted her nose and cheeks and her large green eyes were bright with childish innocence. _So young. _She thought bitterly. _What a pity._

The second girl was Greta Burgess. She vanished five years ago while vacationing on the lake. She was older, at about eighteen. She was strongly built. A black belt in karate even. Her picture wasn't a very good one, a little blurry, but she looked pretty. Her blond hair was pulled back in a pony tale and she wore a stern expression. She looked like a really tough girl. Judging by her athletic build and training, whoever took her would've had to be either ridiculously big and strong or they didn't work alone.

The last girl to disappear was Amber McCullen. She was taken just two years prior to Rosette's arrival. She was around seventeen. She was a cute girl. Brown waves fell around her shoulders and her eyes were a similar chocolate color.

Rosette was surprised to find that all three girls had been staying at the Hollow Hill Inn when they disappeared. Each and every one had simply vanished from their rooms in the night. As she read on, a chill swept down her spine. Not only had they not found any bodies, but there were no clues, no evidence at all that no one besides the victims had even been in the hotel room. There were no finger prints, no DNA, nothing. The police looked and looked for months each time, but again nothing was ever found. They were all now presumed dead.

"Excuse me, Miss, but the library will be closing shortly." Whispered the librarian, interrupting Rosette's train of thought.

"Oh, sorry about that. I was just finishing up." She said, and began gathering her things.

As she drove down the dark, forest surrounded road, Rosette thought about the three recent cases. The faces of the girls kept flashing across her vision. Greta's case really bugged her. She wasn't at all like the other two. Amber and Lorelei were small and they didn't know how to defend themselves. Greta, on the other hand, wasn't your typical kidnap victim. She was larger, stronger, she had extensive training. She'd been studying karate since she was five years old. So why couldn't she fight back. Why hadn't there been any sign of a struggle?

Cat's Fang stalked briskly through the forest along the road toward Hollow Hill Inn. The hotel that now stood in place of the manor was his usual haunt. Lots of pretty young tourists who didn't know the dangers of this land. Naïve little twits, the lot of them.

Suddenly glaring lights caught his attention. They were the headlights of a small yellow, misshapen car. It was moving slowly down the road. Obviously the driver was not familiar with the road. Another foreign twit most likely. His sharp eyes peered into the passenger's side window as the car passed. He could plainly see, even through the tinted windows, that there was a woman behind the wheel. So, careful not to be seen, he sent his magic to work on the old vehicle, slowing it down to a rolling stop with a sputter.

Rosette mumbled a curse as she got out of the car. She got a flashlight out of her trunk and popped the hood. Her brother was a mechanic and he had taught her all about engines and such. With the handle of the flashlight in her mouth, she poked about the engine, looking for signs of damage, anything out of the ordinary. She saw nothing. No reason what so ever for the car to stall. "What the hell?" She cursed again. "I just got gas this morning. Did it just die?" She kicked the Volkswagen's front tire with her sneaker. "Stupid piece of-"

"Having car trouble?" interrupted a velvety voice.

The young woman looked over her shoulder to find a tall man in a leather hooded coat standing a few feet away, just off the side of the road.

"Yea." She replied, "Who are you?"

"Name's Marak." He purred in his low voice, as he approached her.

Rosette eyed the man, cautiously. She noticed, as he came nearer, that his feet barely made a sound when he walked. _How is he doing that? _She wondered in amazement.

"May I ask what your name is?" He asked, his head rolling to the side a little. As he did so, a lock of long black hair fell out of the shadowed opening of the hood.

She paused a moment, considering his request. He had given her his name, so she might as well be polite in turn. "Rosette."

"That's a name you don't hear very often these days. It's pretty. A pretty name for a pretty girl. " He commented.

"Thank you." Rosette flustered, her cheeks warming.

"I noticed that you have an American accent. Here on vacation, are we?"

"I'm here researching for a book I'm working on." She explained. She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched the man carefully. She watched him like a hawk, committing everything, every detail, to memory, just in case. Of course she couldn't get a good look at his face, what with the hood and all, but she noticed plenty more about him. He was roughly six feet and six inches, extremely tall, he towered over her five foot, eight inch frame. He had broad shoulders and a lean figure. He was thin, but not frail. He was built strongly. There was power in his stance. The way he held his shoulders back and head high, showed how confident he was. Judging by the loose strand she'd seen his hair was jet black and fell to at least his collar bone.

"You're a writer?" He asked in a impressed tone. "Have you written anything I may have heard of?"

"No. I only recently graduated from college, so I'm just starting out. This will be my first book." Rosette answered, tucking her short black hair behind her ears, shyly. She mentally slapped herself for doing that. She hated that nervous twitch.

"What is your book going to be about?" He asked, seemingly intrigued.

"Well, after I heard about the disappearances of the girls around here and the legends surrounding them, I thought I'd do a book about that."

Another motorist passed by the pair and the headlights lit up their forms for a brief second. As the car went by, Rosette could have sworn that lights flickered beneath Marak's hood, like two small, round mirrors.

"That would make a good book." Marak complimented, once the motorist was gone. "Now why don't I take a look under that hood."

He went over to the car and bent beneath the hood, to look over the engine.

"Do you want me to hold the flashlight for you?" Rosette offered.

"Nah." He said, shaking his hooded head, "I'm fine."

She thought it strange that he would reject her flashlight. It was so dark out. There was no way he could see what he was doing.

"You know, I'm somewhat of a writer myself." He began.

"You are? Have you had anything published?" She asked. He'd caught her interest. Perhaps he could recommend a publisher.

He paused a moment as he tinkered with something. "Not yet. I've been having trouble with my story, as of late. I can't seem to get my main character right, so I keep having to start over. You know what I mean?"

"Totally." She replied. "I've started a few stories, but I can never think of a good ending."

A rumbling laugh echoed from Marak's hood. "Me neither." He chuckled, as he slammed the hood down with a clang. "That should do it." He said, and as the words left his mouth, the car's engine roared to life.

"Wow, thank you!" Rosette beamed, smiling cheerfully. She was beginning to think she'd have to walk all the way back to the inn.

"You are most welcome, Miss Rossette. If you don't mind, would you tell me where you're staying?" He asked, hesitantly, sticking his leather gloved hands in the pockets of his coat.

"Hollow Hill Inn. Do you know it?"

A cunning smile spread across his face. "Oh I'm quite familiar with that place. Perhaps I'll stop by tomorrow night. I could help you with your book."

"That would be great." Rosette chimed with a smile. "Thank you, Marak." She waved goodbye and got back behind the wheel of her car. As she went passed him, she rolled down the window, "Would like me to give you a ride somewhere?" She asked, politely. He had helped her out, after all.

"No thank you. My home is within walking distance from here. I'll be fine. You take care now, Rosie." He bid with a teasing chuckle, as he walked away.

As she drove away, Rosette watched Marak walk down the road through her back view mirror. Taking her eyes off of him for a moment to watch the road, he was gone when she looked again. Vanished. As if he'd never been there in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

When Marak arrived back at his kingdom, he was met with an annoyed tapping of boots on the stone floor of his private quarters. Goar was there, waiting for him, obviously disgruntled.

"What?" Marak Cat's Fang growled. "I swear you're like an old nanny."

"What took you so long?" Goar asked. "You're late for court."

"I was helping a stranded motorist." He chuckled darkly, as he quickly changed his clothes. He'd gotten mud all over his jeans from scrambling through the woods.

"What did you do?" Goar asked, a horrified tone in his voice.

Marak rolled his eyes at him. "Goar, do you actually think that I'd go and slaughter people at random?" He paused as he waited for the answer, but Goar just averted his gaze and cleared his throat nervously. So, the Goblin king went on, "I believe I've found her."

Goar's brown eyes widened. "You've found a replacement? Already? I know you work fast but…"

"Her name's Rosette. I saw her drive by as I ran through the woods towards the inn. I stalled her car to make her stop. Pretty girl. A little older than I'd like, but she definitely had spunk. She's a writer staying at the inn, so there'll be no problems taking her."

"Are you sure you want to take her? It seems like you just chose her at random, just because she happened to be passing buy."

"I'm sure… I liked her eyes. They're a strange copper color. I've never seen anything like them." Said Marak with a dreamy look in his eyes as he thought of those shining orbs.

Goar huffed in annoyance. "A good King's Wife needs more than just looks, Marak. Aside from her eyes, how do you know she's the right one?"

"I just know!" Marak snapped, baring his fangs. At the sight of the fright that crossed Goar's face, he inwardly scolded himself. With deep even breaths, he felt himself calm down. "I just know. She showed no fear when I approached her. She just glared at me, as if she knew my intentions. I got this feeling…I'm not sure what it was…just a gut instinct, I guess."

Goar watched his king in amazement as he told the tale of his meeting with this Rosette woman. There was a slight curve in the corners of his lips, almost a smile. And Cat's Fang never smiled. "Yes well, she doesn't know what you are yet. She thought you were human. You have to be careful with your choice, Marak. Decide carefully."

"I've made up my mind." Marak announced, his booming voice chiseling his words into stone. There would be no arguing with him. No changing his mind. "I'll be taking her tomorrow night. Make the preparations." With no more to say, he strode from the room.

Goar followed quickly behind him, still pleading with his king to reconsider. "All I'm saying is, you should wait. Bide your time. Watch her, study her. Find out everything you can about her. If you don't, there's a high likelihood that she'll freak out like the others did."

"If I agree to follow her around tomorrow, will you get off my back?" Marak hissed.

"Yes, Marak." Goar bowed his head with thanks. It wasn't much, but at least he was getting somewhere with the stubborn Cat's Fang.

The following day, after a great breakfast of bacon and waffles, Rosette decided to go into town so that she could dig up some info on Goblins from the locals, since she was getting no where at the library.

Her search didn't start out too promising. Whenever she asked, the people would give her a disgusted look and slam the door in her face or walk swiftly away, with their children's hands clutched tightly in their hands. The mere mention of Goblins struck fear in their hearts.

"Hello again." Chimed a familiar pleasant voice.

She turned around to see the man from last night standing right behind her. She knew it was him for she recognized the hooded leather coat and his tall imposing body. Even in daylight, she couldn't make out the face beneath that hood. He seemed more nervous today. He wasn't standing like he did the previous night. He was slouched with his head bowed, casting his face in even darker shadow.

"Hi, Marak. Funny running into you here. I wasn't expecting you until tonight." She giggled with a smile.

"Yea well, I was in town and I saw you, so…" He let his voice trail off. "Need any help with your research?"

"Sure could." She sighed. "Nobody's giving me anything on Goblins. They won't even talk to me about it."

"Their tongues were much looser back in the day, but what with the increase in disappearances lately, they're scared shitless." Marak said matter-of-factly as he began walking along side Rosette down the street. "But I think I know someone who'll talk to you."

"You do!" The girl yelled excitedly, bouncing up and down.

Marak couldn't help but notice how her short black hair danced when she moved, catching the sunlight in it's glossy surface. He could just picture it splayed out across a pillow, candle light flickering across those black silk strands. He wished it were longer though. He liked long hair.

"Who is it?" Rosette asked, snapping him back to reality.

"Tom Braves. He's the father of a girl who went missing back in the late 70's, before the three recent cases."

"Cool." She chimed. "Lead the way." She followed him as he walked briskly down the old cobblestone streets of the town square. She was practically running to keep up with his long, quick stride. He moved very fluidly, elegantly, still barely making a sound. She still couldn't figure out how he was walking so soundlessly in steel toed boots.

Finally, he halted to a sudden stop before a little house. It was more of a cottage really, with stone walls and a red tin roof, flowers sprouting from window boxes on either side of the wooden door, and a red and green painted gnome standing guard over the front yard.

"This is his house." He said motioning his gloved hand toward it. "Go ahead. I'll wait for your by the fountain at the center of town.

"Aren't you going to come with me?" Rosette asked, eyeing him as he started to walk away.

He turned his head slightly to look back at her. The wind picked up and began to whip a loose strand of his long black hair wildly in the air. "No." He said simply. He gave no further explanation.

She watched him until he disappeared around the bend before she approached the man's door. She knocked several times before the door was finally answered.

A man, bent over and crooked with age greeted her with a kindly smile. "Hello, Miss. Can I help you?" He asked, his voice quivering almost as much as his hands.

"Hello, Sir. I'm Rosette Parker. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I'm doing research on Goblins for a book I'm writing and I was told that you could help me out." She explained.

The old man's wrinkled forehead rose in surprise. He looked at her questioningly. "Why would you want to write a book about those horrid things?" He asked, emotion dripping from every word.

"Well my book is more about the disappearances actually. I was told that your daughter was one of the ones taken." Rosette clutched her notebook tightly against her chest and bit her lip nervously. She was all too aware of the painful memories she was dragging up. She could see the anguish in Mr. Braves' face.

"Who told you that?" He demanded in a soft voice.

"Marak." She answered.

Then to her surprise, a look of confusion washed over Mr. Braves. "Marak? I don't know any Marak." He said.

Rosette's brows furrowed over her copper eyes. "You don't? But he certainly seemed to know you?"

"Well I've never heard of him." He grumbled. "Good day miss." He bid and went to shut the door.

Rosette quickly grabbed the door, refusing to let him shut it in her face, without giving her any answers. "Please, Mr. Braves. I really want to hear your story. I promise I won't take up too much of your time. Please." She pleaded with him, her eyes burrowing into his. "Please." She said again.

Cat's Fang watched her meeting with Mr. Braves with captivation. She had come across as such a soft spoken girl last night, now he could see that she did in fact have a strong will. She was growing on him more and more by the second. With a pleased chuckle, he watched the old man let her in. He wished he could enter that place with her, listen to his tale of misfortune, how his daughter was dragged away by a goblin almost forty years ago, never to be seen again. He'd heard it many times from his father's point of view, but he was sure that Mr. Braves would tell it differently. Marak wished he could sit in that little house, drink a cup of warm tea, and have a nice chat with his grandfather. Perhaps tell him the truth of what happened to his only child, but then again, she was dead anyway and he doubted knowing that would give him much comfort.

Rosette sat on a floral patterned couch, across from Mr. Braves in his lounge chair. With a creaky, hoarse voice, he began to tell his story.

He handed her a framed picture. The years had faded it, much like everything else in the man's home. The picture was of a thin, awkward looking girl with super long black hair that came all the way down to the small of her back. She had a pretty face, with high, pronounced cheekbones, a slender nose, and lips that were thinner on the top than on the bottom. Her hazel eyes were bright with youth. Around her head, she wore a braided head band. She was wearing a loose white shirt and bell bottomed jeans. A child of the hippie age if ever there was one. She and a younger version of her father were sitting on the front steps of the cottage. She was sitting behind him with her arms wrapped around his neck. They both wore a kind smile. Everything about this girl exuded happiness and joy.

"That's Grace." He croaked. "My daughter… that's the last picture I have of her. She was kidnapped a few weeks after it was taken."

"How old was she?" asked Rosette, still studying Grace's face.

"Only sixteen." He answered, his bottom lip beginning to tremble.

Rosette reached out and took the old man's hand, squeezing it reassuringly, she asked him politely to tell her what happened.

"Grace loved nature. She liked to go for long walks through the woods and hike up hollow hill. She went out there all the time, but then…one day…she stopped. She came home one day, after a hike, all pale and dripping with sweat. She had a strange, wild eyed look, like she'd seen a ghost or something. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that she'd seen something out there. A hideous creature that looked like some kind of hybrid. Half human and half snake. She said it had large yellow-green eyes, an angular head, with barely a nose and no ears at all and a mouth that was far too wide, filled with sharp teeth, and it's body was covered with silver scales."

Rosette listened with horror and disgust twisting about in her belly at his description of the creature.

Mr. Braves went on, " She said the thing spoke to her in a man's deep voice. It told her that it had fallen in love with her and asked her to come away with it, to it's home underground, but she said no. When she refused to come willingly, it tried to grab her. She fought it and for some reason it let her go. It could have easily dragged her away, it was a huge, powerful looking creature and she was such a tiny thing, but it didn't. It just stood there and watched her run away."

"I don't understand. If she got away, then why is she gone now?" Rosette asked, biting her thumb nail with anticipation.

Mr. Braves swallowed hard as he tried desperately to hold back the tears. "She didn't get away. It _let_ her go. It wasn't until some time after she was gone that I realized this. That thing was toying with her. Like a cat with a mouse. Catching it's prey then letting it go for a brief moment, before reeling it in again to strike the killing blow."

He paused a moment as he took a swig of his coffee to soothe his aching throat. "Grace refused to go outside after that. She stayed shut up in the house day in and day out, only coming out long enough to go to school. It was I who encouraged her to go out that day. I was beginning to worry about her. It couldn't be good for her to stay in the house all the time. So she went….that was the last time I saw her. That thing took her. I know it. They're all around us, watching and studying us. They've been stealing our children since the beginning of time. Those damned goblins!" He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. "I searched this land a hundred times over, and never found a trace of her. I brought out all the men from the village to help me, but they gave up and went home after a couple of weeks. The police helped for a while as well, but soon they too gave up. They told me that Grace was probably murdered by some pervert, and that I should just move on, get on with my life." He rubbed his gnarled hand over his blotchy scalp, "But I couldn't. I can't. I can't just forget about her. Grace might very well be dead, but I have to know for sure. I need to know what happened to my daughter. I don't want to die without knowing the truth."

Rosette jotted down her notes and bid farewell to the old man, thanking him kindly for speaking with her. She wanted to run from that house. She couldn't take the sound of heart break anymore.

As she marched towards the center of town where she was to meet with Marak, she thought about Mr. Braves' story, about the snake-man creature Grace had seen. Funny, when she heard stories about goblins as a child, she had envisioned little green humanoids, with long noses and spindly arms and legs. Creatures who loved to pull pranks on humans. They were never bad in her imagination, just mischievous, like small children. If Mr. Braves' description was anything to go by, goblins were far more terrifying than the fairytales led her to believe.

Marak sat on the rim of the fountain, water splashing behind him.

"Hi."

He snapped his head up at her greeting. He was careful to keep his head angled in such a way, as to keep his face hidden from her peering eyes.

"Thank you for waiting for me." She said. She wore a troubled expression. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her eyes were misty. He noticed that she kept making a sniffling noise, like she'd been crying or was on the verge of crying.

"No problem." He said, getting to his feet. "Did he tell you what you needed to know?"

"Um yea." She bit her bottom lip. Something was obviously on her mind. "Listen, I know that it would be more convenient to go ahead and have our interview now, but I'd really like to go back to the inn and rest for a while. Listening to that poor man's story really took a lot out of me. You don't mind, do you?"

Marak shook his head. "Not at all. I'll come by the inn tonight, say around eight o'clock. I'll bring a couple of my friends along as well. I'm sure they'd love to help you out."

Rosette noticed a strange edge to Marak's voice, like he found his words amusing for some reason that was yet unknown to her. Still, he seemed like a nice enough guy. "That sounds great. I'll see you then." She began to walk away, but he stayed with her.

"Please, let me walk you back to the inn." He offered, his voice pleasant.

"That's alright. You really don't have to go through the trouble." She protested.

"Please. I want to get to know you better. It'll give us the chance to talk." He said, tilting his head to look at her. He offered her his arm, and she gratefully took it.

"Why don't you take off the hood?" She inquired as they made their way up the winding path towards Hollow Hill Inn. "It's pretty warm out."

He shook his head, "No. I…um…have a skin condition. I have to keep my skin covered, or I'll break out in blisters from the sunlight." He lied, hoping that his explanation would slate her curiosity.

"That's too bad. I would like to see your face. I bet you're pretty cute under there." She giggled, as she tried to peek beneath the hood. His hair acted as a veil though, obscuring his face even more.

He chuckled at her failed attempts to see his face. "This hood really bugs you doesn't it?"

"More so than you think" , she replied with a coy smile. "I'm terribly nosey. I can't stand being left in the dark."

"Well, I'm afraid you'd be terribly disappointed. I'm actually quite plain." He responded, with a sigh.

"Oh, you don't give yourself enough credit, Marak. I'm sure you're very handsome." She assured him with a smile. She sounded as if she were giving a pep talk to a child. Still, he liked her ways. He pulled her slightly closer to his side. She surprisingly didn't seem to notice.

"Tell me about yourself, Rosette." He prodded. He needed more information about her to appease Goar.

"Well, there's not that much to say really. I grew up in Kansas. I'm the youngest child out of two. My older brother, Stan, has his own car repair shop. I Graduated with honors from the local high school and went on to get a degree in literature from Kansas State. And now I'm here." She shrugged her shoulders. "That's about it."

"What about your parents?" Marak asked.

"They're both doing pretty good. They still live in our hometown."

"Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?" He couldn't help but ask. Not that it mattered really.

She shook her head, her cheeks turning bright red. "No. I'm not married yet. No boyfriend either as of right now. I haven't been dating much lately. H-how about you?"

"I have even less to tell. My mom died when I was a kid, and my dad passed about eight years ago. I took over the family business after that. I've been married three times before, but they didn't work out."

"Divorce?"

"No. They died." He said. He studied her, curious as to what her response would be. She looked a bit shocked, but not fearful, like he was afraid she would be.

"Wow…you have really bad luck with women." Rosette felt sorry for the poor guy. There was a sad tone in his voice when he told her about his previous wives. Although, she did find it a bit strange that all three of his wives were dead.

"Tell me about it." He replied, humorously.

Finally, they arrived back at the inn. Marak politely walked her up to the front door.

"I'm in room 112. I'll see you tonight." She sent him off with a friendly wave and a bright smile.

How naïve she was. Marak smirked devilishly as he walked away. She was far too trusting. Good. It would work in his favor. The more gullible the quarry, the easier the catch.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Rosette came out of her hotel bathroom, dressed in a pair of silky shorts and a grey Kansas State t-shirt. She ran her fuzzy white towel over her dripping hair, ruffling the short tresses in an effort to dry it. When she was done she laid the towel on the desk to be put away later. For now, she had to look over her notes again before Marak arrived for the interview. She grabbed her hair brush and ran it quickly through her hair as she sat at the desk, reading from her note pad. Her copper eyes scanned the pages as visions danced through her mind.

_A pretty girl walking through the woods alone. She hears something. A deep voice calling her name. She turns her head to find the source and she does. There's a large being standing by the path. An impossibly large man. He draws closer, revealing odd and frightening features. He raises his hand, reaching towards her and says, "I love you, Grace. I have always loved you." He springs for her, grabbing the thin and gangly girl by the waist. His grip is strong and she feels as if all her breath is being squeezed out of her. "Come with me!" The being begs, as he begins to drag her away from the path. She screams as loudly as she can. Her legs kick and flail, but her frantic energy is failing. He's holding her too tightly. She cannot breathe. Her strength is failing. She screams out at the pain in her chest, from his crushing grip. Startled, by the sound. He lets her go. She runs away, as fast as she can. Every now and then she looks back , expecting to see the man charging after her, but there is no one. The being stands where she left him, staring with wide yellow-green eyes, in the direction she'd run off in. He stares down at one of his clawed hands and watches as the fingers curl into a fist. A tear falls from the creature's eye and splashes onto his barrel chest, leaving a grey stain on his white shirt. Wordlessly, he backs back into the darkness of the forest and disappears. _

A knock at the door, startled Rosette from her musing. "Who is it?" She asked, setting her note pad aside and standing from her chair.

The hotel keeper speaks to her through the door. "There are three men here looking for you." She said. "One of them says he's a friend of yours."

"Ah, yes." Rosette smiled. "Let them in. I've been expecting them."

The hotel keeper opened the door and Marak slinked through the door, still wearing the coat with his hood drawn over his head. Tendrils of black silk fell from the opening of the hood and laid lazily over each shoulder. Behind him, strode in two other similarly dressed forms. All wore coats with hoods drawn over their heads, blotting out their faces in the darkness that the hoods provided. Rosette felt a quiver of annoyance run through her. What was with the hoods?

"Thank you." She chimed, smiling at the hotel keeper, who smiled kindly back and left.

"Rosette, this is Goar and Bream." Marak introduced them both, motioning his hand at the shorter but broader Goar and then to the giant brick wall that was Bream.

"Thank you all for coming. I really appreciate it." She said.

Goar bowed his head in a deep nod. "It is our pleasure."

Rosette sat down at the desk again and flipped her note pad to a blank page. "This shouldn't take too long. I just wanted to ask you about the folklore surrounding goblins here and about the disappearances."

"Sure thing." Goar replied. He sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. Bream stood motionless by the door, blocking the little light that came from a small lamp on a bedside table with his wide body. Marak stood quietly by the doors that led onto a tiny balcony, staring up at the stars and the full moon above.

"First things' first," Rosette began, touching her favorite pen to the pad. "What do you know about goblins?"

"Plenty." Goar chuckled. "In other places, goblins may be seen as mischievous, child-like creatures. But not here. Here they are much more negative creatures. Here they are imagined to have varying features. Some look very much like animals, but others look more human. Those are the ones you have to be most afraid of."

There was a lowering of pitch as he said this and Rosette felt the hair on her arms raise. "Why is that?" She asked, hesitantly.

"Because they can hide themselves among you." He explained. "A goblin could be in this very room with you and you'd never notice so long as they kept their goblin features hidden." There was an underlying amusement in his words that made Rosette's heart begin to race. "The ones who look human are the strongest and are of the most noble of goblin bloodlines. The high families, do not usually breed with other goblins. Instead they marry outside of their kind, with elves and…humans." Rosette swallowed hard. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She didn't want Goar to continue but he did. "The goblins are ruled by a king. The king is the strongest of them all." As he spoke, he stood back up and Marak turned his head towards her. In the swift motion, the light of the room broke through the darkness that hid his face and lit up his eyes. They flared back at her like a nocturnal animal's eye shine.

"The king _always_ marries outside his kind." Said Goar. The feeling of dread brewing in Rosette's belly intensified. "Goblins prefer elf brides, but when they cannot be found, they make due with humans. They do the job just as well. Naturally, the women would not willingly marry a goblin, but that doesn't really matter. Goblins are far stronger and young human girls can be overpowered very easily."

Rosette got up from her chair and started to slowly back away from Goar, towards the balcony doors. "I-I think I have enough now. You can leave." She stuttered nervously. Goar was edging closer, his head moved slightly to the side, looking Marak's way. He glanced at him several times as if waiting for a signal. Rosette's gut was aching now. Goar hadn't said anything directly menacing but his body language said something quite different. "Marak?" She questioned, looking over at him. "W-what's going on?"

A deep chuckle reverberated through the room. Marak's broad shoulders rose and fell as he laughed. "It amazes me how trusting you stupid humans are. You practically gift wrapped yourself." His hand lifted his hand to his head and pulled back his hood, revealing the horror that laid beneath.

He had silvery skin that looked like it belonged on the bloated corpse of a drowning victim. Long black hair fell lankly around his high boned cheeks, falling over each shoulder. The tips of long pointed ears peaked out of his hair. His eyes were yellow-green with slit shaped pupils. His mouth was set too widely. They were thin and the color was the same as the rest of his skin, giving really no distinction between them. His upper lip had a crease at the center, much like in a cat. His nose was flat and rounded at the tip. He smiled at her, showing a row of sharp silver teeth.

Rosette screamed at the sight, and her brain switched into panic mode. Frantically, she twisted her hips and kicked Goar in the knee. With a pain filled grunt, he fell to the floor and Rosette dashed for the balcony. Bream was still standing in front of the door. She couldn't get out that way. To her surprise, Marak didn't even try to grab her. He just stood there, grinning demonically at her as she dodged past him and threw open the door. She darted out onto the balcony and halted to a stop at the railing. She stared down at the parking lot below. She was higher up that she thought.

"Honestly, what are you going to do, Rosie? Jump?" Teased Marak. He strode calmly to the doorway and leered out at her. He raised his hand towards her and mumbled something. Rosette read his lips. _Sleep. _

Rosette didn't understand what he was trying to do, but it definitely seemed to piss him off that she wasn't complying. His cat-like face twisted with rage. He growled a curse, flashing his fangs at her.

"I'd rather die than go anywhere with you, monster!" She spat. With shaking limbs, she climbed over the railing and stood on the outside, preparing to let go and fall to her death.

"Don't be stupid! Get back over the railing!" He hissed, baring his sharp teeth at her again. He rushed to her and grabbed her arm. He started to pull her back to him.

"No!" Rosette screamed. She couldn't let herself be taken. She didn't want to end up like those poor other girls, vanished without a trace, her parents not even able to burry her. She squeezed her eyes shut and threw her other arm into his face.

Rosette did not see, but there was a great spark of blue light as her fist connected with Marak's jaw. The force of her blow knocked him back. He let go of her and Rosette plunged to the concrete below.

"Marak? Are you okay?" Asked Goar as he and Bream hovered over their king.

Marak moaned as he came to. What the hell was that? It felt like magic but how could that be? She was human right? It sure hurt, whatever it was. He groaned as he snapped his jaw back into place. "Shit!" He hissed, remembering that it was only him keeping her from falling. He rushed to the balcony railing and stared down at Rosette's broken body. He could tell from there that her left leg was snapped in two places and she had probably fractured her skull. Blood pooled around her head and saturated her clothing. Some more spewed from her lips and coated her chin. With a roar, he leapt over the railing and landed soundlessly on his feet beside her. A few seconds later Goar and Bream followed his example.

"Christ, Rosette." Marak grumbled. He knelt down beside her and looked over her wounds. Rosette's eyes were still open. They stared at him, her pupils reduced to pinpoints from both the pain and the fear.

Her pupils grew even smaller as Bream and Goar gathered around her and Marak and removed their own hoods. Bream made Rosette's stomach churn. He had no human features. His head was that of a spider's with many eyes and sharp teeth. Goar had a pair of short bulls' horns jutting from his head. His ears were long and drooped slightly. His head was covered in short brown hair. His skin was a light brown. His eyes were pitch black. However, what disturbed her most was that instead of a human's mouth, his was more like a cow's muzzle. Large nostrils flared as he spoke, his cows' lips moving just as easily as any human's. "Is she too far gone? Can you save her, Marak?"

In response, Rosette tried to speak and instead choked on blood. It spewed from her lips , splattering Marak's twisted face and clothing.

"I think so." He grumbled. He looked up at Goar and held out his hand. "Give me the salve." He ordered. At once, Goar reached into the pocket of his coat and brought out a little jar of salve. Marak took it from him, untwisted the top and began to smear the creamy substance onto Rosette's various wounds, using his magic to heal her as he rubbed it into her skin. Carefully, he cradled her head in one hand, lifted it slightly, and continued his work on her skull, messaging the salve into the skin over the fracture in her skull. Now there was the internal injuries to take care of. "Give me the healing elixir that I gave you." He said, his hands still at work on her head. Goar took a blue glass vial from his pocket and handed it to him. Marak tilted his head back as he took a shot of the elixir. Then he wiped some of the blood away from Rosette's lips with his sleeve and pressed his own thin lips to them. Gently, he parted her lips to pass the liquid into her mouth. He then stroked her throat with his thin fingers, urging her to swallow. She finally did and the sound of bones snapping back into place could be heard echoing over the parking lot. Marak stood and watched as the girl's body convulsed violently as the elixir did it's job. It set her bones back in place, sealed bleeding vessels, and reversed the damage that had been done to her brain. This went on for several minutes. Once the healing was complete, her body shuddered to a stop and her head rolled to the side as her mind slipped into unconsciousness. Marak felt his own legs wobble from fatigue and fell onto the ground beside her.

"Marak!" Goar yelled, shaking his king's shoulder in an effort to wake him. "He passed out." He sighed, getting nowhere. "Healing all those wounds plus that blow she gave him earlier must have taken a lot out of him." He looked over at Bream's several worried eyes. "Let's get them home. They could both use a rest before the ceremony."

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**Word from Author: I'm really sorry about the wait guys! I'll try to do better! Thanks for being so patient and understanding. **


	5. Chapter 5

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter was originally going to be apart of a larger chapter, but I decided to go through the King's Wife ceremony step by step, so it's super long. I wasn't going to do that originally but it's my favorite part of the book and I didn't want to leave anything important out. Also, after reading the book again, I realized that I was typing Marak's nickname wrong. It should be Catsfang instead of Cat's Fang. I fixed it in this chapter, please ignore that in the previous ones. Chapter 6 should be done shortly. Enjoy Chapter 5!**

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Chapter Five

Rosette opened her eyes, her lids fluttering once then twice before opening completely. Her vision blurred then slowly cleared. She blinked several times, disbelieving the vision before her. Marak's deformed, cattish face lay beside her, his eyes closed and his thin lips slightly parted in sleep. With a yelp, she jackknifed into a sitting position and scrambled off the bed.

"What the hell?" She squeaked in as quiet a voice as she could. She covered her mouth with her hands to keep from screaming as she looked about the room. It was very large with stone floors and stone walls. Even the bed itself was carved from stone, instead of wood. It definitely looked like it was lived in. There was a desk on the opposite wall as the desk, laden with books and papers. There was clothing strewn about the room, lying on the floor and draped over the furniture. She saw the ever familiar hooded coat hanging on a coat rack by the door. Most of the clothing was dark, so she assumed they all belonged to Marak. He seemed to have morbid taste in clothing. There was no color, no blues or greens, just dark shades of grey and pitch black, perhaps the occasional dark navy of a pair of jeans. "Where in the world, am I?" She wondered, aloud. "Is this Marak's room? Am I at his house?" Edging her way backwards from him, she stumbled over his boots as she went for the door. She cried out at the shock then quickly covered her mouth again when she heard him stir.

Marak slowly sat up on his bed and rubbed his long fingered hand over his forehead. His head was throbbing and his jaw felt like it had locked up as he slept. He tenderly opened his mouth and shifted his jaw from side to side to loosen it back up. "Damn girl." He hissed beneath his breath. The side of his jaw was aching from where Rosette had struck him. He was pretty sure a bruise had begun to form. Suddenly, a small murmur, like the squeak of a mouse, earned his attention. His cat eyes shot over to the woman heaped on the floor in front of the door. "You!" He hissed. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber you had to try to fly, huh?"

Rosette lowered her hand and glared at him. "I'd rather kill _myself_ than let _you_ do it!" She hissed back at him.

Marak's lips pulled back from his fangs as he snarled, "You ungrateful little witch! I nearly killed myself trying to heal you and this is how you talk to me! You should be happy I didn't just leave you there to die!"

"I'd be happier if you had! I have no desire to become your lunch!" She yelled, jumping to her feet.

Marak laughed deeply as he stood from the bed. "Lunch? You think I'm going to eat you?" He laughed harder and held his side.

"You're a goblin. Isn't that what goblins do?" Asked Rosette, her glare intensifying.

Marak brushed some of his hair out of his face and snickered at her. "Have you forgotten what Goar told you in the interview already? He was not lying about that. My kind do not lie. Goblins don't eat humans, we marry them. That's why you were brought here. I am the goblin king and you are going to be my new wife, Rosette."

Rosette's stomach fell to her feet. Marry…him! The idea of sleeping with a goblin made her want to vomit. The idea of sleeping with Marak in particular made her want to vomit even more. She clenched her teeth and swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat. "If that is so, then what happened to those three girls who went missing in the last ten years?"

Marak's smirk fell into a scowl and a darkness seemed to take over his eyes, making his pupils shrink into very narrow slits. "I told you that already. They were my previous wives. They're all dead."

"How did they die?" Rosette asked, her hands clenching into tight fists.

"You don't need to know that." He said, glowering at her.

"Yes, I do!" She spat.

Marak growled deep in his chest, sounding like a tom cat giving a warning to a trespasser in his territory. "_I_ killed them." He said lowly. He watched as this registered in her brain, eliciting a look of fear to appear on her face. "They refused to take on the responsibilities of being a King's Wife, and so they had to die. Of all the Maraks before me, I'm the only one who has killed his wife, let alone three of them." He stalked towards her. "All King's Wives are difficult in the beginning. The Maraks have to wait a long time before they are accepted as husbands. However, I am not nearly as …patient as my predecessors. I can't afford to be." He reached out his hand and stroked Rosette's cheek with a long nailed finger, invoking a involuntary flinch from her as his nail broke the skin, leaving a trail of red behind it. "I _need_ my son. Cooperate with me and you will not suffer the same fate as those others." He brushed past her as he went to the door and opened it. "I will see you shortly. I'll send some of the women to you in a moment to help you get ready for the ceremony." He added. He went out and shut the door behind him.

Outside, Marak stood by the door, waiting to hear the sobs he was sure were coming. He'd been through this three times before. They always cried after he told them what was going to happen to them. However, this time that sound never came. Rosette remained quiet. He waited for a couple more seconds, then finally left to prepare for the ceremony. He had to mix some ingredients for the spells he would have to cast over the girl. Marak smiled slightly as he strode down the hallway. It seemed he was right about her so far. Rosette was proving to be stronger than the rest.

Inside the room, Rosette sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the door. She pinched her arm, hoping against hope that she'd wake up back in her bed at the hotel and this would all be a dream, a terrible nightmare to be quickly forgotten. She didn't wake up. The nightmare was real. She was trapped here, wherever she was. Soon she'd be forced to marry a monster, a ugly monster that would surely kill her if she didn't do as he wanted. Everything that he wanted. She rubbed the blood off her cheek with her thumb and wiped it on her ruined t-shirt. A little more blood wasn't going to hurt it now. She was already drenched in the metallic smelling stuff. It was true. He had saved her. He'd healed her somehow. Was that supposed to make her feel better about him? Make her think that he wasn't all bad? Not at all. It only meant that she was worth more to him alive than she was dead. And that purpose he made abundantly clear. Like any other monarch, he needed a wife for one purpose and one purpose only, to produce a male heir, a son. She already knew what that meant. She suppressed the urge to vomit again. She made a vow to herself then and there. Whatever happened tonight and beyond it, she would never give Marak the satisfaction of seeing weakness in her.

Rosette jumped as the door suddenly swung open and a horde of short women spilled into the room. A tall, wispy figured woman glided in behind them. Rosette couldn't help but gawk at the odd creature. She was beautiful in a spooky, otherworldly way. She was very thin boned, with large hands with spindly fingers. Her cheeks looked sunken in and a pair of large, slightly slanted eyes beamed at her in a shade of lilac. There was no pupil to speak of in her eyes, nor any whites, only an expanse of the vibrant purple. Wisps of white hair fell down her back. Feathers wove in and out of the mane. "Evening, Lady Rosette." The goblin woman greeted. She bowed her head gracefully on her too-long neck, respectively. "I am Anisole, Goar's wife. I believe you have already met him." A smile stretched her small baby like lips.

"Y-you're married to the bull headed guy?" She stuttered, remembering the horribly deformed man.

"Yes I am." Anozale giggled. The sound was light and pleasant like the trickling of a brook. "Marak asked me to be your lady in waiting tonight. The dwarves will see to it that you look your best for the ceremony." She began, waving her hand over the child sized women who were swarming around Rosette's feet, tugging at her soiled clothing and looking over her hands. One of them made a disapproving noise as she licked her own thumb and began a desperate attempt to scrub away a ink stain on her index finger. "I will conduct the tests necessary to be sure that you will be a good wife for Marak."

"Tests?" She asked. "What kind of tests? You going to give me a physical exam or something?"

"The tests are magically based. I won't have to do anything invasive." Anozale assured her, giving her a comforting smile.

Rosette didn't question the idea of magic. It made as much sense as everything else around here.

With that the goblin and dwarf women escorted Rosette through many passageways and corridors until they finally arrived in another room. Rosette looked around the room. Like the rest of this place that she had seen so far, the room looked to have been carved out of the earth. The walls were made of rough, uneven stone. Even some of the furniture was made of rock, much like Marak's bed. Anisole lit a candle and set it onto a vanity. It gave her a little more light in the dark room, but she still had to strain her eyes to see clearly.

"Do not worry about your eyes. They will grow accustomed to the darkness soon and if you want to, you can always ask Marak to fix them for you. There are spells to help with night sight." Anazole picked up a golden chalice from the vanity and held it towards her. "Drink this, dear."

"What is it?" Asked Rosette, taking the cup from her. She sniffed at the stuff and grimaced.

"It is a potion that Marak has already concocted for you. It will make you mute for a while. It is purely a precaution, I assure you. In the old days, most King's Wives are elves and they have very powerful magic. We do this to keep the wives from casting nasty spells on us during the ceremony. It won't hurt. I promise." The goblin woman explained, as the dwarves scuttled about, filling the tub that sat in the middle of the room.

"Do I really have to? I'm human. I can't do magic, so turning me mute isn't very necessary. I don't pose any threat to you."

"Marak would beg to differ." Anisole giggled. "He says you used some kind of magic to knock him away from you. You left a big bruise on his jaw, you know." She gently pushed the cup up to Rosette's lips. "Now please, drink up. If you don't do it yourself, I'll have to call Marak in here and he'll force you to drink it. Believe me, he will. He's done so in the past. His second wife put up a big fight. She was an incredibly strong girl, physically. He still managed to pour the entire cup full down her throat before she started to choke."

Rosette shivered at the image of the beast doing something so vile. "Fine." She sighed. It didn't matter if she didn't like it or not, she wasn't going to let Marak win by making him pour the stuff down her throat. Guys like him, goblin or human, got sadistic pleasure out of that kind of stuff. She put the cup to her lips, but stopped as she remembered something.

"Wait. Kings usually like um… pure girls right?" She asked, a grin spreading her lips in triumph. "I'm not a virgin so I can't possibly make an ideal King's Wife, right?" Looks like some good came out of that horrible mistake she'd made her freshman year of college after all!

Anisole frowned at her. "The Maraks prefer virgin brides to be sure, what man does not? However, it is not necessary for you to be one. We are aware that the values of humans have changed dramatically with the times. If all Maraks insisted on marrying virgins, then they'd have to steal them much younger now than in previous years. I'm afraid that that matter does not concern Catsfang. His third wife was not a virgin either."

Rosette spat a curse then knocked the drink back. She nearly spat it back out when she tasted how awful it was, but Anisole was there, urging her to drink it all. "Catsfang says you must drink every last drop. After what you did to him earlier, he'd rather not take any chances with you." Her lips curved into a smirk. "I do believe you make him nervous, Rosette."

Rosette opened her mouth to ask why she was referring to Marak as Catsfang, but even though her lips moved, no sound came out. She grabbed at her throat in surprise. The stuff worked better than she expected.

Anisole went over to the tub, steam already rising from the hot water within, and motioned for the dwarves to bring Rosette closer. The dwarves stripped her faster than she could blink and shoved her into the tub. Rosette grit her teeth as they scrubbed at her skin, furiously working to get every bit of blood off her skin and out of her hair. After a few minutes, Rosette allowed herself to relax somewhat. The pleasant smelling oils they were bathing her in numbed her brain to the awfulness of what was to come. She didn't want to think about it. When she did, she wanted to punch Anisole in her freakishly pretty face and sling the dwarves across the room, throw stuff and scream every curse word she'd ever heard in her life, but then she would remind herself of the wives that came before her. Marak killed them because they wouldn't behave themselves. If she wanted to live, she had to be a good girl. Whatever. If it meant survival, she'd do whatever she needed to. It was true that she had tried to kill herself to keep herself from being taken, but now that she was here, there'd be no point in doing so. Either way, she'd never be with her parents again now. She'd never get to see them again nor would they even be given the chance to give her a funeral. She might as well try to live as long as she could.

After the bath, the women scrubbed her dry with some towels and rubbed rose scented oil into her skin. While the dwarves primped her, Anisole sat beside her on the stone couch she was sitting on. She had one of the dwarves stand beside her with a jar of black ink, while she painted symbols on Rosette's right arm from above the elbow to her wrist. Rosette watched her in awe, admiring her work. She actually liked how it looked. It reminded her of a henna tattoo, something that was done on the hands of Indian brides shortly before their wedding. When she was done with each row, Anisole wiped her work with some oil. Some of the letters turned gold, making Rosette gasp, "Wow!" Her mouth moved to say the word, but of course it could not be heard. She did this several more times and more and more letters turned gold, invoking the same amazed response from Rosette. Rosette's writer's mind was soaking everything in. Every moment was exotically interesting. She would have to write everything down later. She couldn't wait to get all of her confusing thoughts out of her head and onto paper.

When she was finished with the letters, Anisole grinned at her, showing all her sharp teeth. "You've passed the King's Wife tests, Rosette!" She said happily. The dwarves all cheered happily.

Rosette frowned and groaned soundlessly.

Finally Rosette was led to the vanity and was made to sit down while the dwarves worked on her hair. She leaned her cheek against her knuckle, resting her elbow on the vanity. She frowned even deeper as she watched the women work, doing absurd things with her hair. This was not how she imagined getting ready for her wedding would be. She had always thought that she and her wedding party would lounge about in a hotel room the morning of her wedding, get all primped and pampered by a cosmetologist team, and travel to the church in a fancy limo, drinking wine and chatting about how wonderful her soon to be husband was. She never imagined getting mobbed by short little women or having to marry a man that wasn't even human. One of the dwarves brushing her hair mumbled something in a strange language, sounding awfully unhappy. Rosette gave Anisole a questioning look.

"They're disappointed that your hair is short. They can't put as many ribbons in it as they would like." She laughed.

When the dwarves were done, Rosette was pleasantly surprised. Her short hair was pulled up in a twisting shape at the back of her head with a top piece that swept back to meet the rest, giving the hairstyle volume and drama. A silver broach, encrusted with what looked like diamonds secured her bangs out of her face. It sat just above her left ear. She was relieved to see that they had decided against putting ribbons in it today. A lock of her hair was left loose near the back. They curled it a little and let it go. Rosette thought it looked weird, having just a few strands loose while the rest was so finely styled, but she was too afraid to point it out. She didn't want to risk them taking it down to do something a whole lot weirder to it.

A couple of the dwarves left the room and came back a couple of minutes later with a dress that was supposedly for her. Rosette pouted when she saw it. She wasn't necessarily surprised by the color, but she had hoped that she would at least be aloud to wear a white dress. Instead she stared angrily at, of all things, a black dress. This was supposed to be her wedding wasn't it? Not a funeral? Though she supposed the atrocity that she was about to endure was a little of both in her case.

The dwarves let her put on some simple undergarments, a pair of simple white panties and a strapless bra, then they helped her step into the dress. Anisole laced up the bodice for her. The dress was strapless and at the waist, a skirt of soft silk and a shier material began. It was bizarrely short at the front, coming only to the tops of her knees, with a long train in the back. She looked at her reflection while Anisole finished. Now that she was near the candle, she could see that the dress was actually a very dark bluish purple, with flecks of silver throughout. She smiled slightly at it. It reminded her pleasantly of a nighttime sky filled with stars. When she was a little girl, she went through a faze where she was obsessed with aliens. Her parents bought her a telescope that year for her birthday and every night, whenever there was a full moon out, she'd go outside, set up her telescope and look at the stars for hours. Sometimes she'd even sleep out there, under the stars. Rosette felt a tear streak down her cheek and quickly wiped it away before the other women could notice. She wouldn't show weakness, not even around them.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and everyone stopped what they were doing and turned around to see who it was. The door opened and Marak entered, holding a bowl filled with several other objects. "Get out." He growled and at once the horde of dwarf women surged out the door. Anisole curtsied and hurried out herself, shutting the door behind her.

_Isn't it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding? _Thought Rosette sadly. Like she needed any more bad luck. She watched him set his things on the vanity, before turning towards her. He had cleaned himself up. Her blood had been washed from his face and hair. The long tresses of black hair were bound back with a rubber band. A few strands hung around his cheekbones still. She could now see just how long his ears were. He looked even more odd than before. He was wearing all black. Of course. He didn't seem to own anything else. However, he was dressed much nicer than usual. A button up shirt was tucked loosely into a pair of slacks. A pair of shiny dress shoes adorned his feet. He left the first couple of buttons undone casually on his shirt, leaving it open to just beneath his collarbone. If they were under better circumstances and he was not a wife murdering beast, she would have thought he looked kind of nice. But they weren't and he was just such a beast so it only made a bitter taste form in Rosette's mouth.

"You look…pretty." He complemented her, with some strain in his voice. It sounded forced, like saying such a thing caused him physical pain. "I hope you like the dress. I chose it for you. I have a feeling you like stars." He smirked crookedly at her over his shoulder.

Rosette cocked her head to the side with interest as she watched him take a golden circle out of the bowl and snap it in half, as if it were made of very brittle material. He walked up to her, with an indifferent look on his face. He looked bored. _Well_, Rosette thought, _this is his fourth go around. I'm sure he really is bored after doing these rituals over and over again. _

"Give me your wrist." He ordered and she unresistingly held up her right wrist. He wrapped the broken ring around her wrist and snapped them back together. He drew his hand away and she looked it over carefully. The ring was whole again, as if it had never been broken at all. _Nice trick_. She muttered in her head. He did the same thing with the other wrist and then he bent down to place two more rings on her ankles.

When he finished he stood back up and stared down at her with his hands on his hips. "Why aren't you struggling? You haven't even screamed this whole time. Not once since I awoke."

She glared back at him smugly. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" She mouthed.

Marak's lips tweaked in one corner slightly. "No." He answered. "If there is one thing in this world that I hate, it's hearing women screaming and wailing. It gets on my nerves." His lips pulled away from his fangs and Rosette realized that this frighteningly ugly expression was his way of smiling. "Thank you for being such a good hostage." He chuckled. He laughed harder as her angled brow began to twitch in anger.

When his laugh died and the smile retreated, he looked at her again solemnly. "I am proud of you Rosette. You are conducting yourself as a true King's Wife, with poise and elegance. I'm…curious to see if this calm composure will last to the end of the ceremony. It is not the most pleasant experience." Then he reached into the bowl again and brought out a jar with some kind of cream inside. He dabbed a little on his fingers and rubbed the stuff on her cheek where he had scratched her earlier. Her skin seemed to hum under his fingertips. The slight burn from the scratch ebbed away until it no longer existed. "I'm just healing your scratch. I don't want your pretty skin scarred or blemished in any way for the ceremony. There's no need to give me that venomous look." Then he put the salve away and took her hand. He held it one hand and stroked it with the other, turning it over and trailing his fingers over the lines in her palm. "It's a good thing you keep your nails a little long. We'll need those." He said. Rosette fought the desire to rip her hand away from him. Perhaps seeing her displeasure on her face, he released the hand and touched the small of her back, urging her towards the door. "It's time." He whispered.

The door swung open without the need of his touch, revealing two male goblins in golden armor. In their hands, they held thick chains. Rosette stood still, while they connected the ends of the chains to the golden rings on her wrists and ankles, forging the metal together with what she assumed was magic. "I'll see you in a moment." Said Marak and he effortlessly vanished, fading away like a ghost.


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Told you it would be finished soon! Ha ha! You weren't expecting the next day, were you? Here's the long awaited King's Wife Ceremony! **

Chapter Six

Rosette had expected the guards to drag her to the alter, but they walked at an even pace with her as she walked as calmly as possible down a dark hallway. She kept her back straight, her shoulders back and her head high. Determination shone brightly in her copper eyes. Bad things were sure to come, but she had made up her mind that she would face them head on. There would be no squalling, no hiding or cringing in a corner. She was never one to back down from a challenge and this was just another.

If she could see the goblins' faces under their helmets she would have seen a bit of shock and more than a little respect there. They could tell that there was something different about this one. Perhaps Marak would keep her around.

The hallway opened up into an enormous area. Rosette's eyes doubled in size as she tried to take in the place. It could only be described as an arena, or a football stadium. All around her, goblins sat, cheering at her arrival. At the center of the room, was a platform of stone with two stone tables on it. Marak stood on the platform with his hands behind his back, his expression blank. He paid no mind to the crowd. His attention was on her and her alone. Shrugging off her shock, she squared her shoulders back again, stuck out her jaw and strode quickly towards the platform. The guards were not expecting her to move so quickly and were tugged forward by her chains.

Marak stifled a laugh, biting his tongue to keep it inside. In all his years of studying the King's Wife Chronicles, he'd never heard of a bride dragging the guards down the isle. Usually it was the opposite. The sight was just bizarre. Finally Rosette started to cross the four multicolored squares. She power walked across them so quickly that she didn't even notice that the letters on the squares were shifting beneath her feet. The letters disappeared behind her as she stepped up onto the platform. The roar of the crowd became defining to his ears, but Rosette didn't even seem to hear them. She was too preoccupied with glaring at him. She looked at him like an opponent on a battlefield, like she was an actual threat. He clenched his hands into tighter fists behind his back and swallowed hard as pleasure rolled through him. What was it about that little expression of hers that drove him so crazy? As he looked at her in her dark, awkwardly cut dress and bare feet, her eyes sharp with intensity, Marak decided that she was probably the most beautiful of all his wives.

Blinking out of his stupor, Marak went over to one of the tables. Rosette and her guards followed. Rosette was still jerking them around. Marak picked up an object from the table and Rosette finally tore her glare away from his face long enough to register that he was holding a golden knife. She kept the fear out of her face but Marak noticed her gulp. He nodded towards the guards and they detached their chains and fit the golden rings around her wrists into a pair of brackets on the table, so that her hands were palm up. The guards then turned on their heals and stepped down from the platform, leaving their king and his soon to be wife alone there.

Marak watched Rosette carefully, looking for any indication that her nerve was slipping. She wasn't fidgeting or tugging at her brackets. She was just staring at the knife in his hand with a worried expression. He was going to have some fun with that. He placed the tip of the knife in front of her in the space between her hands and twirled it. She cocked a questioning eyebrow at him and he smirked slightly down at her, before setting the blade aside.

Rosette glared at Marak's ugly face as he picked up a paint brush from the table. He had made fun of her with that knife, toying with her emotions. She made a mental note to get back at him for that later at some point.

Marak then painted a symbol onto her forehead in golden paint. This was the door spell that would keep her locked away in his kingdom forever. He silently wondered if she'd yell at him when he told her about it. He was looking forward to it.

Rosette frowned as he painted on her skin. The paint he was using irritated her skin. It was itchy and it burned a little. Maybe she was allergic. Then, setting the brush aside, he ran his hands over hers, using a spell to keep them open and still for what was to come. That's when he picked up two of the knives.

At first, she thought he was just toying with her again, but then he placed the blades to the skin of her wrists. All color drained from her face. In one swift motion, he swiped both blades across the skin of both wrists, leaving lines of blood from her wrists to the center of her palms. Her eyes watered at the terrible pain shooting up her arms, but she stayed strong. She pressed her lips hard together to hide their trembling and fought back the tears that were on the brink of falling.

Marak took her hands out of the brackets and held them over a bowl, allowing the dripping blood to cascade over his own hands and pool inside of the bowl. Setting aside the bowl of blood, he dipped their hands into another bowl of some kind of liquid that stung like he'd shoved their hands into a beehive. Again she pressed her lips together and screwed her eyes shut, fighting desperately not to break down. When he brought them back out of the liquid, she was amazed to see that she wasn't bleeding anymore. Although there would probably always be scars there to bare witness to the abuse her hands had suffered. Wrapping her hands in cloths, he placed them back into their restraints.

Marak placed the blade of the knife to his own wrist and cut into his flesh, letting the blood pour into the bowl already filled with Rosette's. He didn't even flinch at the pain. His dark, muddy blood mixed with the vibrant red of hers. He smirked at the shocked look on her lovely face. Her mouth had fallen open a little. He liked that expression, almost as much as her angry face.

Rosette watched in awe as the blood in the bowl began to mix and swirl. A red mist then filled the bowl. Then, a silver mist appeared. There was not as much of it, just a little bit of sparkle, as it rose above the low lying red mist, forming a wispy cloud, like an early morning fog over the lake. She looked to Marak, trying to read from his face what this might mean. Whatever it's meaning, he was defiantly pleased by it. His lips stretched from ear to ear, baring all his teeth in that ugly smile of his as he watched the silver fog.

Slowly the red mist and the silver fog faded away, leaving only a pink cream behind where the blood had been. Marak slathered the pink cream over the wounds on her hands. The pain in her hands faded as the wounds were healed by the concoction, until only silvery scars were left behind in their place.

Marak was amazed by her ferocity and resolve. All of his wives had cried by this point, but not little Rosette. Her mouth hadn't even moved to make a cry at the pain he knew she had felt from the knives. And she was still glaring at him, daring to look him right in his eyes. Not even his fellow goblins were that brave. He smiled down at the scars on her hands as he picked up the last knife. The future looked promising. Unlike his previous wives, the scar that represented her life span was very long. She would live to a ripe old age. Marak could hardly contain his relief. Finally, after all the years of searching and trying and failed marriages, he'd found the one woman he was always meant to steal. At least it seemed that way. He still couldn't relax completely. He wouldn't be able to until he was holding his son in his arms. There was still the matter of his own life line. The scar on her other palm was significantly shorter. He hadn't been surprised. It was the same length each time he went through the ceremony. At thirty years old, he could only hope that there was still time to both woo his new bride and conceive the child before his life was snuffed out.

The crowd obviously saw the change in him, saw the joy in his eyes and his muscles relax. They knew something wonderful had happened. He turned to them all and told them in goblin what he had already noted. Not only was Rosette to live a long life, but she was an elf cross as well. A weak elf cross, mind you, but this would be the first time in seventy years that any elf blood was to be added to the royal bloodline. At this, all the goblins cheered, stomped and hollered so loudly it was defining.

The guards returned and locked their chains to her shackles again to lead her to the next table. Or rather, they gestured to where they wanted her to go and _she _dragged _them_ there. She knelt down on a cushion in front of the other table and her hands were shackled again into brackets at either side of her. These restraints scared her more than the others, because they wrapped around her elbows, keeping her from moving her arms at all. Her mind raced with all the horrible possibilities of what Marak had in store for her. For most of the ceremony, she had watched him, not really wanting to look at anything else. He was frightening, but he was familiar in a way. Familiarity felt safe to her. However, now she dared herself to see what was on the table before her. There were a few objects there, but what really made her blood chill in her veins was the sight of a five foot golden sword.

Marak saw that she was eyeing him with distrust, those copper orbs bouncing from the sword to him and back again. He wanted to reassure her, but he was forbidden to speak directly to her during the ceremony. It would have to wait. He was very proud of her. She was clearly nervous about everything that was being done to her, but she kept her fear in check. It remained to be seen if she'd be able to keep it up once he picked up that sword.

He made a fire in a bowl with his magic and snipped the straggling hair from her head that fell down her back with a pair of scissors, catching the lock in the bowl. Then he cut off several tips of her fingernails. Pity. She had such pretty hands. He felt like he was defiling her. He caught the fingernail clippings in the fire lit bowl as well. He did the same to himself. He let their hair and fingernails burn for a few seconds then he picked up a needle and a plate from the table. He pricked her finger and let a few drops drip onto the plate. She screwed her eyes shut at the sharp pain but she didn't try to cry out or anything. _My little wife has such pride_. Marak thought, pleasantly. _She's such an elf, even for a weak cross. Proud and arrogant as much as she is beautiful. I don't know why I didn't see that when I first met her. _He then pricked his own finger and his blood fell to meet hers on the plate. He held the bloody plate over the fire, letting the blood drip into it. The blood sizzled as it hit the flames. The fire then died, leaving only ashes behind.

He picked up the sword and saw panic sweep through Rosette's eyes, although her facial expression never changed. He took some of the ashes and rubbed them over the blade, giving it a thorough dusting.

The crowd went dead quiet as soon as he picked up that sword. It made Rosette's belly twist with nervousness. What was that blade for? Was she about to die? It seemed like a lot of trouble to go through just to kill her. Maybe she was about to be sacrificed to some goblin god! She bowed her head, squeezed her eyes shut and inwardly said a small prayer. "God forgive me for all the terrible things I've done in my life." The prayer over, she decided that she wanted him to look at her when he killed her, look her right in the eyes! She wanted to make him feel guilt for the rest of his miserable life! She lifted her head and met his cat eyes as he raised the golden sword over his head. His face was different now. Before his expressions had given her signs as to how well the ceremony was going and if she should be worried or not. Even though he hadn't said a word, those subtle expressions had made her less afraid. Now his face was void of all that and the fear crept back into her heart. He looked cold and dangerous, every inch a goblin king. She didn't tare her eyes away, even as the sword came down, arcing towards her neck.

Just as the blade was about cut into her flesh, the sword suddenly morphed, going from straight and strong metal to soft, lithe, flesh. It writhed around like a living thing. Her eyes bulged and her mouth gaped open. For the first time she tugged desperately at her restraints. She could feel the cold, roughness of scales against her flesh. The living blade wrapped around her throat, moving as quickly as lightening, it coiled itself around her throat and squeezed, until she saw stars. There was a chilling hissing sound as a serpent's face appeared before Rosette's eyes. It wove it's head from side to side, as though ready to strike. She felt a scream rise in her throat, but she swallowed it back down. She didn't want to scare the snake, for fear that it might bite her. Then it lowered it's head to her shoulder and continued to tighten it's coils until they were wound so tightly around her throat that none of her flesh showed. It's head rested at the edge of her collarbone. Just as quickly as it had come on, the feeling of the serpent's scales rubbing against her stopped and the snake stilled. All the choking pressure she felt from the snake constricting her airway, vanished with it. She felt the snake flatten against her, as though it had melted into her skin.

Marak looked upon his wife, utterly filled with joy as she hung in her restraints, completely exhausted from her terror. She still hadn't let herself scream or shed a single tear. The determined little elf. The King's Wife Charm had taken to her better than he had expected. It had wrapped itself around her throat so tightly that it looked like she was wearing several golden rings on the length of her elegant neck like the women of some native tribe on a far way continent. Charm hadn't seemed to like his other wives. It was as if he knew that they wouldn't last long. He had just hung around their shoulders like a dead worm on a hook. Now he was wound around Rosette's neck in a protective embrace, his head resting not very far away from her heart.

All of the goblins around him saw Charm's acceptance of her as a good sign as well. They all let out happy, joyful noises of celebration! Finally the true King's Wife had been found!

Her guards came to Rosette and released her from her restraints. She was too shocked and tired to walk so they supported her with one of her arms around each of their necks as they took her away. Marak followed behind, watching Rosette's head roll from side to side, too tired to even support her own head.

The guards took Rosette back to Marak's private rooms and laid her on what was to be their marital bed. Rosette's eyes were swimming with disorientation. Her lids drooped, eager for sleep.

Marak quickly mixed the antidote for the mute spell and poured it into a goblet. He sat down at the head of the bed and cradled her head while he brought the cup to her lips. "Drink this. It will allow you to speak."

She gulped the foul tasting liquid obediently, then he placed the cup on the nightstand.

"What was that?" Was the first thing she asked, grasping at her throat. Her voice was still weak from the spell and probably from Charm's overzealous groping of her throat. It had been too long since he adorned a proper King's Wife.

"The King's Wife Charm." He answered, leaning his head against the headboard and closing his eyes for a second. "It looks like a snake but it's not a real one. That' just the form it takes. It wraps itself around you, becomes apart of you, and it will protect you from every danger you might face, from attackers, and even your own hand. Many King's Wives try to commit suicide, as I'm sure you can understand." He smirked at her. "You've already tried that little stunt."

"What do you mean it becomes apart of me?" She asked.

He got up and retrieved a small mirror. He held it up for her, while she admired the reflection of the Charm for the first time.

She stared at it horrified, as she stroked the coils with her fingers. She couldn't feel them anymore. It felt no different from the rest of her skin. She had never been into tattoos but now she had one of a large snake around her neck where she couldn't hide it. "That's marvelous." She sighed. "So it's still alive under my skin or what?" She asked.

"It's alive, but it's sleeping. You won't be able to feel him slither under your skin if that's what you're afraid of. He only awakens when he feels that you are in danger." He set the mirror aside and walked around the bed to lay down on the either side. He groaned in exhaustion. Those rituals took a lot out of him as well. He kicked off his shoes and laid back on the bed with his hands folded over his stomach and his ankles crossed.

"What are you doing?" Asked Rosette, displeasure coating the sound her voice.

"I'm tired. I'm going to sleep." He said, closing his grey lids over his yellow-green eyes.

"Not here you aren't." She growled, trying not to let her fear show. She wanted to shove him off the bed but she was too tired.

He peaked at her with one eye, the other still closed. "Did I say I wanted to consummate the marriage tonight? No, I didn't. Rest. We'll do _that _later." His lips tweaked into a sideways grin. "Unless you'd rather get it out of the way."

She grabbed a pillow from behind her head and swatted him in the face with it. She could tell he wasn't angry about it, because she could hear him laughing through it. "Fine! Fine! I wont' touch you! Promise!" He chuckled.

He pulled the pillow away, still smiling teasingly at her. "Tell me, Rosette, do you know of any ancestors that lived around here at one time?"

"I don't know." She shrugged, still a bit iritated. "My dad says that our family was one of the original immigrants that came over to America on the Mayflower, so maybe before then the Parkers lived in this area. I can't be sure of it though. Why?"

"Remember the silver fog? It turns out you have a little bit of elf blood in you. It's extremely distilled, though. It was probably introduced to your bloodline many generations back, but it's still there."

"Is that why you looked so happy when you saw the silver mist? You could tell that I have elf blood?"

"That's right. I suspected it after you attacked me with magic the night I took you. It seems your magic is just the offensive kind that appears only when you are being threatened. It's too weak for you to tap into under normal circumstances. I know you never noticed it before. Perhaps it was triggered by some deep rooted Elvin instinct after you realized what I was. We goblins are the elves' biggest enemy after all. Seeing the fog of silver confirmed it. I really couldn't be happier. It's been such a long time since we've seen an elf, or even a cross, like you."

"Why? What happened to them?" Asked Rosette, her curiosity provoked.

"They left Hollow Hill a very long time ago. There are more humans now than there have ever been before. Their settlements are encroaching more and more on their territories, taking away their precious forests. Since we live underground, the goblins have never had this problem. As a result to this lack of land, the elves have to either keep moving from forest to forest or they allow themselves to be absorbed into human society. They are beautiful creatures and can easily pass for human. It's long been feared that the elves' days are numbered, that there will soon be a time when there are no elves. It's been seventy years since an elf bride has been captured. My grandmother, Lily. Her group had been small to begin with, just a couple of families. After she was taken by my grandfather, Marak Hawkwing, they left Hollow Hill for good. Elf blood is very precious to the security of our survival. Maraks with elf blood are stronger and are usually some of the best, deeply loved and respected by the people. Without the elves, the goblins will grow weaker." He frowned sadly. "I imagine, that eventually we too will have to leave Hollow Hill to follow the elves, but now that I have taken an elf cross as my bride, perhaps such a migration can be put off for a while longer, at least until a stronger Marak comes to power."

"Why couldn't you conduct this move? From what I've seen so far, you're a great magician and you don't appear to be weak." Said Rosette, her eyes flittering down his long frame.

His frown deepened as he turned his head fully towards her. "That's not what I meant by strength. To make such a move, to leave Hollow Hill, the place that has been our home for hundreds of years, would take a lot of trust and faith. Neither of which I have from my people. I lost all of that when I killed my wives. They don't have any love for me, only fear. They would never follow me."

"You could fix that you know. If you were just nicer maybe the other goblins would come to love you again. There's always time to change. You just have to want to." Said Rosette, her eyelids fluttering as she fought sleep.

Marak watched her as her eyes slowly closed and she let herself fall into sleep. "It's too late for me, I'm afraid. It would take a whole other lifetime to make up for all that I have done." He reached over and gently took her hand. He rolled it over and slid his fingers over the shorter scar, his life line. "I just don't have the time."


End file.
